


Automatic Hit or Miss

by UrbanHymnal



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ficlet, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Roleplay, Yes both kinds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrbanHymnal/pseuds/UrbanHymnal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock and John experience a bit of miscommunication over the term 'roleplay.'</p><p>Or John has a perfectly good two-handed weapon, thank you very much, that Sherlock is more than welcome to use.</p><p>---<br/>Written during the 221b Con Fanfic Workshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Automatic Hit or Miss

John sprinted up the stairs, two at a time. Sherlock’s texts had been ‘urgent’, a steady stream throughout the day. Most of them John had ignored. There were strict rules about what John was willing to leave work for and an insistence that boredom was eating away at Sherlock’s brain in ever increasingly colorful ways wasn’t one of them. 

What did have John leaving fifteen minutes early, coat only half on, was one simple question sent from Sherlock not quite an hour ago:

> _How do you feel about roleplaying?_

John read it just before stepping into examining room three. It was only the state of Mrs. Workman’s preoccupation of showing John every wart, bunion, and scratch kept John from thinking about Sherlock. 

Sherlock in a school uniform.

Sherlock bent over John’s knee because Sherlock had failed to clean up last night’s experiment. 

Sherlock in glasses, haughty and judging John until John put Sherlock’s mouth to better uses.

Sherlock’s skin on display, torso wrapped tight in a corset, as he quickly responded to John’s instructions to–-

 _Ahem_. Right. 

So bunions were dealt with, paperwork was filed, and cabs were caught and then abandoned when they moved far too slowly. 

John tugged loose his tie and cast his shoes and shirt in whatever corner that was readily available. The bedroom door gave under a hasty shove. 

“Sherlock, have you been a _naughty_ boy?” John growled, frustration and want slipping into need. 

“Yes. The village elders called me a willful and dangerous child, and all agreed that I would best survive on my own in the wilderness. Not a surprise given the world’s view on sorcery.”

John paused; his slacks did not. Gravity did most of the work and they settled in a tangled mess around his ankles. Sherlock was not naked. And he was not naked in the sense that involved corsets and tiny lace panties. Despite that, he had managed to curl himself around a book in such a way to completely negate the very not nakedness of his entire lace covered torso. An uncomfortable lingerie pretzel. 

“Um…what?”

“Yes, they hoped I would die from exposure. After all, I was only ten at the time.” 

“ _What?”_

Sherlock frowned down at the book in his lap. “I have my character sheet here, if my concept wasn’t clear.”

“You aren’t– you are. Of course, you are.” John rubbed his face a moment, trying to right his brain as the world had jumped tracks. Or rather, Sherlock had. He pressed his lips into a thin line of determination, stepped out of his slacks, and tugged down his pants. 

Sherlock finally glanced up from reading. “John?”

“Is that a roleplaying book?” He kicked his pants aside and slowly moved towards the bed. Calm. Casual. _How’s the weather? And oh dear, I seem to have lost all of my clothes. Tragic._

“Would you prefer LARPing over pen and paper?” Sherlock looked for a moment at John’s crotch, eyes skipping and hopping over bared skin, before looking back up at John’s face.

“Which involves my cock being sucked?” 

“Ah.” Sherlock shut his book and set it aside. “The LARPing, I think.”


End file.
